


Nothing More

by Johannas_Motivational_Insults



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 02:59:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10295903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johannas_Motivational_Insults/pseuds/Johannas_Motivational_Insults
Summary: (Possibly) unrequited Becho. Third person Echo POV. Takes place directly following 3x05.





	

The heat of the flames consuming the ship bakes Echo’s skin as she watches them lick the darkened sky and destroy humanity’s best shot at survival. The fire is finally dying, but the shelter continues to crumple as the steel melts and bends under its own weight. The devastation before her is reflected in the faces of those gathered in Arkadia, everyone keenly aware of what they just lost. Even King Roan, stoic as he is, is wearing an expression bordering on disappointment.

Echo’s eyes sweep through the crowd, trying to locate Bellamy. He was with his sister, last she saw him, but now it is Wanheda tending to the injured Octavia. Finally she finds him, standing off to the side, talking with Chancellor Kane. She waits to leave her king’s side until Kane walks away and Bellamy is left standing alone, staring at the wreckage. Then she casually sidles up to the man who was her captive mere hours ago. “All that for nothing.”

“A month of work,” bemoans Bellamy.

“A day of war.” Bellamy blinks over to her, and she almost finds herself smiling as she clarifies, “Our fight was for nothing.”

He snorts, twitching his eyebrows. “Isn’t it always?”

His eyes drift back toward the fire but halt halfway there to rest on Octavia. Her coughing from the smoke inhalation has yet to completely subside, causing fresh blood to seep out of the wound by her hip. Echo can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the sight. “Will she be okay?”

“Looks like it.”

“I’m glad.” Though it’s not the first time she’s said this, she again finds Bellamy squinting curiously at the sentiment. “My intent was never to harm her. I was following orders.”

He rolls his eyes. “Like when you followed orders to kill my girlfriend and forty-eight other members of Skaikru?”

“I didn’t kill them.”

“You helped.”

That’s not exactly untrue. But it’s not the whole story, either. “My orders were first to get the bomber into Mount Weather undetected. I knew how. Having been a prisoner there, I was more than happy to destroy the place, no matter who was there.” The way Bellamy averts his eyes gives her hope that he understands. He suffered the same, though not for long. “I was also ordered to neutralize any enemy guards I saw so that they could not interfere,” continues Echo. She hesitates only a second before admitting, “When I saw you, I got creative.”

Bellamy narrows his eyes once more. “If I was your enemy, why did you want to save me?”

“You were my ally first,” she reminds him. “You made good on your word. You came back for me.” She had other motivations, ones she did not quite understand, but that was reason enough. “And you saved me, when we first met. You rattled your cage so they’d take you instead of me.” Peering up into his dark eyes, she asks a question that has lingered in the back of her mind for ages. “Why?”

“I told you. My first move was to get out of the cage.” The cold wave of disappointment washing over her brain catches Echo by surprise, and she has to fight to keep her expression neutral. She must fail, because Bellamy’s softens slightly in response. “And I wanted to gain your trust.”

That only makes it worse. Being used is part of any warrior’s life, but being manipulated is shameful. Echo returns her eyes to the fire. Either he really means all that, or he’s lying to her. She can’t look at him. “What will we do now?”

“Whatever helps my people make nightblood. Unless you still think that’s blasphemy.”

Echo shrugs, still watching the dwindling flames. “What I think does not matter.”

She feels his eyes on her, but pretends not to until he speaks. “For what it’s worth, it matters to me.”

Briefly blinking in confusion, Echo concludes that he must mean this in the broad sense. He doesn’t give a damn about the traditions and beliefs of her people, not like Octavia does. Turning on him, she declares, “Then I think you’re a liar, _Bellamy kom Skaikru_. You were silent until the guards chose me.” Watching him carefully, she tells him, “I think you’re a good person.”

Bellamy snorts inwardly, a bitter little laugh popping from his throat as he shakes his head at the ground. “You don’t know me.”

There is pain hidden somewhere deep in his tone, and it causes a surprising ache in Echo’s chest. Barely there, but noticeable and incredibly annoying. She shouldn’t care about this _skai skat’s_ guilt, shouldn’t care about him at all. She wants to tell him to grow up, but at the same time, some part of her almost admires his ability to engage and express his emotions. The way he fell to pieces when he learned of Octavia’s death broke the heart she no longer thought she had. He is a human with such capacity for love. She doesn’t understand. She wishes she did.

When Bellamy finally braves her gaze, Echo’s hand gravitates to his cheek by some unknown force. “I know enough.” His earnest eyes intensify the dull pang of longing she often feels in his presence, and she moves on impulse in an attempt to appease it. She’s only leaned in halfway before Bellamy braces a palm against her upper chest, impeding her progress. Immediately she drops her hand and steps back. “Sorry, I thought…” She doesn’t know what she thought. She wasn’t thinking at all.

“We’re trying to save humanity, Echo,” says Bellamy. “That’s all I’m thinking about right now. We could all be dead in a week. Days.”

Ignoring the unpleasant churning in her stomach, she waves him off with a flippant, “Death is a part of life. It could come at any time. That’s just the way it is.”

“You’re not afraid to die? Not at all?”

“Of course not. What kind of warrior would I be then?” Her incredulous expression melts under his gaze as she realizes something that will only cause problems for her. She should keep it to herself. She doesn’t. “But I don’t want you to die.” Pursing her lips in frustration, she squints almost accusingly at Bellamy. “I care about you, and I don’t know why.”

Echo’s heart just about pounds out of her chest as she waits for Bellamy to respond. He takes his time, finally answering with a genuine, “I can understand that.” Echo blinks, unsure if he means that in reference to her or in general. He’s being vague. He’s probably trying to let her down easy to stay in her good books and further exploit her fondness for him. She’s still processing these thoughts when he steps closer and eases his arms around her shoulders.

She stiffens briefly with surprise, but slowly relaxes into the embrace. Her arms snake around Bellamy’s waist and she rests her chin on his shoulder, closing her eyes at the unfamiliar warm feeling in her gut. She’s had her conquests, of course, and not just of the military variety. But this is the first time Echo can recall being held with anything resembling tenderness since she was a young child. Surrendering to the moment, she breathes deeply and slumps to let her forehead nestle into the crook of his neck.

“I do get sick of sides,” she admits into his chest, hands riding up his back to hook over his shoulders from behind. “I wish we could be on the same one.” Head lifting again, her eyes roam around the smoldering wreckage of the radiation shelter behind him. They’re all in one boat now. One cursed ship, doomed to go up in flames. “Maybe we finally are. Again.”

Bellamy pulls back a little, locking eyes with her. There is some kind of emotion in his intensifying gaze, one she can’t quite decipher. Her squinting eyes widen in anticipation as the moment drags on, her brain whirring but utterly useless.

“Bellamy?!” Octavia’s voice makes Echo jump back, snatching her hands away. Immediately she curses herself for the blatant reaction, and for the lapse in self-control that allowed it to happen. As Octavia approaches, her eyes bounce between the two of them, full of disbelief. “You know she tried to kill me, right?”

“That’s not true,” states Echo. “It was an accident.”

“ _Jok yu_ , Echo. You accidentally chased me down and stuck a sword in my gut?”

“I never meant to kill you. It was you who refused to be taken alive.” Holding Octavia’s gaze, she gives her a sincere nod. “I’m glad you survived.”

“Why?” snarks Octavia. “So you can get with my brother?”

That stings in a way Echo did not expect. Her face goes blank as her posture deflates the slightest bit. But what did she expect? She has given Octavia no reason to trust her. Was the look of horror on her face as Octavia stumbled off that cliff supposed to erase the fact that it was her fault? No, that's ridiculous. Feeling Bellamy’s eyes on her, she stands tall and sets her jaw.

Glancing back at his sister, Bellamy shakes his head with a soft, “O.”

”She’s our enemy,” insists Octavia, refusing to be talked down.

Bellamy balks and retorts, “Says the original grounder pounder.”

Shock overcomes Octavia’s features, but is swiftly replaced by the hard lines of anger. “Lincoln never betrayed me. But she’s betrayed you. Betrayed all of us.” Octavia scoffs, eyeing the two of them with disdain. “First Clarke, and now you. Get your head out of your ass, Bell.” With that, she limps away.

Echo watches as Bellamy shifts his weight to follow, but then stops. Slowly he turns back to Echo, something she neither expected nor understands. Is it because he knows it best to let Octavia cool off, or, impossibly, because he wants to make sure Echo is okay? Echo, his captor, his traitor, the slayer of his people. Why would he give a damn?

No, Bellamy cares only for Octavia. His love for his sister is what makes him good. Echo can’t ruin that. Won’t. Watching Octavia’s retreat, she concludes, “Or maybe not.” The wistful undertone in her own voice catches her off guard, makes her cross her arms to ward off the embarrassment.

Bellamy responds with a resigned sigh. “Can you blame her?”

“No. She’s right.” Consciously hardening her expression, Echo turns to face him. “Your duty is to your people, and mine is to mine. Let’s not lose sight of that.”

“Echo.” His tone is asking her to stay, to not shut down like this. But she will not be undone by the gentleness in his eyes or voice. Not again.

“Go fix things with your sister, Bellamy. She’s all you have.” As she turns away, Echo can’t help but reflect that she has nothing in comparison. Nothing but loyalty to King and clan. But that is her life, her purpose. Striding back toward Roan, she swallows her emotions. They stick in her throat.

Stupid, so stupid. She was made for war. Nothing more.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo this is my first foray into The 100 fic, though I've shipped Becho ever since Echo spat on Bellamy, a sign of true love on The 100. I finally got a spurt of inspiration the other day and hammered this out quickly so I could post it before the next episode airs. I incorporated some of Tasya's thoughts on her character, and they really set the tone for this piece, so I can't entirely take credit for the idea. I hope I did the character justice!


End file.
